


Royal Matchmaker

by taywen



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Matchmaking, Mistletoe, Mute!Corvo - Freeform, Post-Low Chaos Ending, Ridiculous, Royal Spymaster!Daud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8941588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taywen/pseuds/taywen
Summary: Corvo scoffed. This is Emily’s way of telling you to stop making mistakes, he signed.“She’s trying to tell me something, all right.” Daud just wasn’t certain what the message was; it didn’t make sense.You just need to listen, was Corvo’s helpful reply.Emily moonlights as the Royal Matchmaker (the position isn't official, but it should be) for Corvo and Daud. The Whalers help, for a given definition of "help".





	

**Author's Note:**

> from a prompt by an anon on tumblr asking for Emily matchmaking Corvo and Daud. sorry this took like 3 months, oops
> 
> title changed at the suggestion of reina_randwulf, thanks!! <3

It started out innocently enough, if anything in Dunwall could still be considered as such. Emily Kaldwin could, perhaps— but then again, Daud knew she’d seen things no child - no person - should have to witness, even if it wasn’t obvious from looking at her.

Times like this, Daud was reminded that Emily was not only an unfairly mature child, but also an _Empress_.

Oblivious or, more likely, simply uncaring of Emily’s rapidly decreasing patience, the noble continued to make crass inquiries into the social availability of her Royal Protector.

Corvo always stood at Emily’s side, a few steps back. This party was no different, and while their current location - some noble’s home in the Estate District - could be the cause for Corvo’s unusual tension, Daud would’ve bet on it being the subject of conversation instead.

“I’m not sure why you’re asking me,” Emily said, with a wide-eyed confusion that Daud had no doubt was entirely feigned. “If you’re asking on your own behalf, perhaps you should think about learning sign language. Corvo’s standing right here.”

The noble’s gaze flicked briefly to Corvo, then back to Emily, their smile slipping into something that more closely resembled a grimace. “Well, if that will ensure my success—”

“Actually, don’t trouble yourself.” Whether by design, or by a natural occurrence, Emily’s cold words rang out during a lull in nearby conversation. “Corvo’s already taken. But even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have a moment to spare for someone like you.”

All pretense of conversation ceased then, heads swiveling from Emily to the unfortunate noble and back again. More than a few jaws had dropped open; Daud himself was shocked at the harsh words, though he didn’t think them undeserved.

The noble’s mouth worked soundlessly for several long moments. Emily merely raised her chin imperiously, an unforgiving set to her mouth and a sharp glint to her eyes.

“So, the rumours are true, then? The Lord Protector is your father?” The noble’s smile was genuine this time, and vicious; delighted to have gained the upper hand.

Corvo’s hand strayed to the pocket where he kept his folding blade, his face eerily blank as he glared at the noble. Emily’s face was going red, her hands balled into fists as she took a step towards the noble.

Daud grabbed their arm in a punishing grip, some part of him viciously pleased with the startled intake of breath, the panicked look that crossed their face when they saw who was pulling them away from the Empress and her Royal Protector. Most of the nobility believed that Daud had merely been hired indefinitely by Emily or Corvo; in a way, he had been, but he wasn’t an assassin any longer. Not that Daud or Emily had bothered to tell them otherwise.

“I’d watch what I said if I were you, Talbot.” Daud spoke quietly, though the room was silent enough that those close by could probably hear him. “You’ve been saying a lot about the Empress lately, haven’t you? Don’t think your schemes with Carmine have gone unnoticed.”

“I-I would never—!” the noble bleated, struggling to escape Daud’s grasp. They were one of those pampered aristocrats who’d never worked a day in their lives, though; no match for Daud’s strength.

“See that you don’t,” Daud said coldly. “And curb that tongue, or I’ll do it for you.” He released the noble just as they jerked back; they staggered and fell, the other party goers stepping aside to avoid so much as brushing against their flailing limbs. A moment later, they were on their feet and basically fleeing from the hall.

Slipping back to the fringes of the party was impossible after that display, but Daud trusted the watching Whalers to recognize and subdue any threat. He made his way to Emily’s side instead, already regretting his rash intervention when he met Corvo’s glare.

The other attendees gave them a wide berth, emptying out of the sitting room Emily led him and Corvo to with surprising speed.

“I overstepped,” Daud said stiffly. Apologies were not his forte. He had always believed that actions trumped words, though this apology was sincere. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. It won’t happen again.”

“Why did it happen just now?” Impossible to read Emily’s tone. Her face was an obvious mask, but Daud couldn’t tell what emotions it concealed.

Giving up killing had been hard. Keeping his unspoken vow to never lie to Emily and Corvo was harder, some days. “Talbot’s behaviour disgusted me.” Daud paused, acutely aware of the hypocrisy of his own actions as he went on to explain, “I can’t abide that kind of presumption on either of you. Though my own actions were similar enough—”

Emily was smiling up at him, unaccountably pleased, and the rest of Daud’s thoughts scattered in the midst of blank, overriding confusion. He’d seen her smile before, of course. Corvo was nearly always involved, though she also enjoyed the antics of some of the younger Whalers. She had never smiled at Daud - unless he was the butt of some joke or prank - and he had never expected that she would.

Corvo’s scowl was still in place when Daud glanced at him for some kind of explanation, so the world hadn’t spun entirely off its axes.

“Well, so long as you realize that you messed up. Just don’t let it happen again,” Emily said dismissively. “Let’s get back to the party, there were these little pastries I wanted to try—”

* * *

It was the weekly signing lesson a few days later. Initially, it had been taught by a private tutor Daud had hired, but the man had handed in his resignation within a few weeks, citing the stress of the job. He had probably been fed up with the antics of his students; Daud could relate.

Now, Emily and Corvo had the dubious pleasure of instructing Daud and a decent majority of the Whalers. It had only been the squad leaders and Daud at first, but where Aedan went, Dimitri inevitably appeared, and it had only gone downhill from there. At this point, Daud was almost entirely certain that every Whaler had attended at least one of the sessions.

“They’re late,” Rinaldo muttered. “That’s not like the Royal Protector.”

“What if something happened? Like an assassination attempt—?” came some idiot’s suggestion.

“Then you’re all fired,” Daud said flatly, unamused.

That got a few moments of silence, but not many. By the time Emily walked in, escorted only by her suspicious tutor, some quiet conversations had picked back up.

“Where’s Attano?” Daud scanned the room, eying likely hiding places; the Royal Protector had a habit of sneaking up on Daud and the Whalers.

“Something came up. It’s just me today,” Emily said. “Didn’t you say you had a meeting with Captain Curnow?” she added, when Callista looked on the verge of protesting. “I don’t think anyone would dare attack me here.”

Callista smiled unconvincingly. “Very well. Corvo said he’d be back within the hour,” she added, a seeming non-sequitur.

Probably meant as a warning to the group of assassins. Daud nodded in acknowledgment, which only made Callista’s mouth tighten, but she departed without further protest.

“If there’s a pressing issue, this lesson can be postponed,” Daud told Emily.

“It’s fine. Let’s just get started today, all right?” Emily made her way to the fireplace at the head of the room. They’d had to abandon the relatively small office they’d used at first, relocating to a large sitting room as more Whalers started attending. The Whalers quieted down immediately as soon as she turned to face them, of course.

“What are we learning today, Empress Emily?” Dimitri asked.

“This is a very important lesson,” Emily said gravely. “It incorporates some signs that you already know, but it also involves topics that we haven’t touched upon before.”

Several of the Whalers _ooh_ ed and _ah_ ed. Daud resisted the urge to roll his eyes at them.

“So, I’ll demonstrate the signs and then you can guess what they mean.” Emily pointed her index finger at herself - _I_ or _me_ \- then crossed her hands over the middle of her chest - Daud had no idea what that sign meant - then pointed her index finger at Dimitri, who happened to be sitting in front of her - _you_.

A good half dozen hands rose into the air, most of their owners imploring Emily to pick them to guess.

“Um… All right, Daud, what do you think it is?”

Daud looked at her in disbelief, pointing a thumb at his chest. “Me?”

“That’s like the first sign we learned, Daud,” Rinaldo said; when Daud glared at him, he wilted and looked away hastily.

Daud crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide his annoyance. “I don’t know what the second sign meant.”

Emily looked disappointed, but didn’t press him. “All right. So… Kent, right? What do you think it meant?”

“Well, I thought that your hands crossed in front your chest could be, like, a skull and crossbones,” Kent said.

“What—?!”

“That’s so wrong!”

“Stop fu— messing around, Kent!”

“I’m just saying!” Kent raised his hands as various others berated him. “But anyway, ‘love’ makes more sense, right? So what you signed was probably ‘I love you’.”

Daud turned to look at Kent blankly. “That doesn’t make any sense. Corvo wouldn’t use those signs to communicate with us, so there’s no point in learning—”

“That’s right, Kent!” Emily said brightly.

“What the fuck,” Daud muttered.

“Language, Daud!” Thomas looked as appalled as Daud felt to have scolded him.

If Emily had heard that exchange, she gave no sign of it as she moved to the next lesson. “This one also means ‘I love you’.” She held up her right hand, middle and ring finger folded, the other three extended. Basically all of the Whalers started copying her immediately and with great enthusiasm.

“Good, good, you all seem to have that one down.” Emily beamed at them, obviously pleased.

Daud felt like he’d passed into some other realm that resembled the one he knew but also made absolutely no sense. Like a scene frozen in the Void, except the human figures moved and spoke as if they were actual people.

“And this one is ‘beloved’.” Emily placed both her hands over her heart. The Whalers did the same, excitedly repeating the word. Even the most stoic of them seemed to be getting into it. Some of Daud’s numb shock was ebbing away, replaced by acute embarrassment on their behalf.

“Daud, do you need me to show you again?”

He flinched, glancing down to realize that Emily had come over to him while he was busy staring at his subordinates’ absurd behaviour.

“No. Thank you,” he added quickly. He was careful not to be too harsh with her, with varying degrees of success. She didn’t flinch whenever he entered a room or spoke anymore, at least.

“So sign them to me.” Emily looked up at him expectantly.

There was some crucial motivation that Daud was missing. It was almost as if— but that was ridiculous. He shook his head. “I’ve already memorized them. I won’t need to do the signs myself.” He didn’t add that these signs were particularly useless; there was no conceivable circumstance that would require Corvo to use them while communicating with Daud.

Emily scowled, which would have been enough to make him cave but then—

“Come on, Daud, show us how it’s done,” Rulfio said, sardonic. The damn traitor; Daud would remember that. Other Whalers quickly took up the cry.

“All right,” Daud said loudly. Had he ever felt the weight of the Whalers’ regard so heavily before? Combined with Emily’s hopeful expectation, it was almost too much pressure. He spoke the signs as he made them, mimicking the first sequence that Emily had shown them - pointing at himself, crossing his hands over his chest, pointing at Emily: “I love you.”

“You didn’t sound like you meant it, Daud,” Aedan said, his expression bland when Daud glared at him.

“That’s all right,” Emily said, but it didn’t sound like it was all right. “I know you’re only my Spymaster because you feel guilty about— about—” Her voice cracked.

“ _Aedan_ ,” Daud snarled as Emily started to tear up, but Aedan - and the rest of the Whalers - seemed as stricken by Emily’s sudden distress as Daud himself. He knelt down before her, reaching out as if to take her shoulders - but that was much too forward, and Daud doubted his touch would be welcome or any sort of comfort.

“Empress— Emily—” He cursed himself for stumbling over his words. Emily ducked her head, scrubbing one sleeve over her eyes as she sniffled. “I meant what I said, when I pledged myself to you. I would lay down my life for you. I’d do it gladly.”

The breath rushed out of him as Emily threw herself at him, her arms curling around his neck with surprising strength. He remained frozen for a few seconds as the nearby Whalers gestured impatiently for him to return the embrace. He dropped his eyes to the floor but did so, acutely aware of the hitching of her breath in his ear.

That was the point when Corvo came in, of course. The Whalers parted before him, some of the more nervous ones going so far as to transverse away. Daud, thoroughly caught by Emily, didn’t have that luxury; he could only watch as Corvo’s expression, already annoyed, soured further when he saw the two of them.

“Corvo!” Emily detached herself from Daud and trotted over to him. Corvo was torn between glaring at Daud and concern for Emily.

 _What happened_? Corvo signed quickly, with none of the consideration he displayed when communicating with Daud or the Whalers. Daud could keep up with that speed for shorter messages, but got lost on more complex sentences.

“I was teaching them some new signs.”

 _You were crying_.

Daud winced; judging by the way Corvo’s eyes narrowed, he hadn’t missed the motion.

“Yeah, but I’m all right now. Daud, show Corvo the new signs I taught you!”

While he had little interest in doing any such thing, allowing Corvo to dwell on Emily’s tears was even less appealing. Daud rose carefully, his knees protesting the minutes spent kneeling.

“It was a themed lesson today,” he said; if his voice came out rougher than usual, no one remarked upon it. He quickly signed the individual words - _I love you_ \- then did the single sign to express the same, middle and ring fingers folded, the others outstretched.

Corvo looked startled when Daud did the first sequence, glancing from Emily back to him again, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“And, finally, ‘beloved’.” Daud crossed his hands over his heart.

Corvo was smirking openly when Daud looked up. _You should be the teacher_ , he signed.

“Hilarious,” Daud said flatly, but Emily was looking between the two of them and _beaming_ again, and he couldn’t help the quirk of his own mouth into a small smile.

* * *

Corvo blinked at Daud in obvious surprise when he joined the Royal Protector in the railcar. _Where is your lieutenant_? he signed.

“Empress Emily assigned me instead.” Daud settled into the seat opposite Corvo. It was comfortable and private, much better than navigating the city by rooftops or sewer; but being confined in the glorified tin can made Daud restless. The windows provided a poor field of vision, and the royal carriage was emblazoned with the Kaldwin coat of arms; might as well paint a target on the damn thing and be done with it.

Corvo raised an eyebrow as the railcar shuddered, then lurched into motion, the wheels squealing briefly on the tracks. _You are not as good at the signs as T or R_.

Daud assumed he meant Thomas and Rulfio; spelling out their name took too long, but none of the Whalers had been given name-signs yet. As soon as one of them got it, they’d all be clamouring for one, so Daud could understand Corvo’s hesitation to assign any.

“That’s what I said, but Her Majesty insisted.”

That was, perhaps, an understatement. When Daud had pointed out that Thomas or Rulfio would have been better suited to the mission, Emily had cut him off.

“They don’t know signs as well as you, Daud,” were her exact words, her eyes wide and guileless. Someone had obviously been teaching her to lie - Daud was passable with the signs, but his memory wasn’t what it used to be, and he couldn’t remember every single sign. When Daud found out which unfortunate Whaler it was—

Thomas had looked at him with a perfectly blank face, adding, “It’s true, sir.”

Daud hadn’t had a chance to address that obvious mutiny before Emily had clapped her hands together and declared matters settled, and reminded him that Corvo was waiting in the courtyard.

Corvo tilted his head, a furrow appearing between his brows. _Someone else can interpret. It is beneath you_.

Apparently Daud hadn’t hidden his disgruntlement as well as he’d thought. He bit back a sigh. “I don’t have a problem with translating, but I’m not as skilled as Thomas or Rulfio.” He glanced out the window, ducking his head to get a look at the rooftops they passed. He and the Whalers had committed more than a few murders in these deathtraps.

Corvo kicked him, hard, digging the toe of his boot into Daud’s shin.

“Fu—” Daud flinched, glaring at Corvo.

Corvo stared back evenly, then quickly signed, _Do not ignore me_.

“Shit. Sorry.” Daud resisted the urge to rub at his abused skin. “What were you telling me?”

 _If Emily says you are the one for the job, you are the one_.

“I’m reasonably sure Thomas wouldn’t have forgotten not to look away,” Daud muttered. In truth, it was an amateur mistake to make, one that Daud hadn’t committed since the early days of his tenure as Spymaster; this whole affair had him distracted and out of sorts.

Corvo scoffed. _This is Emily’s way of telling you to stop making mistakes_.

“She’s trying to tell me something, all right.” Daud just wasn’t certain what the message was; it didn’t make _sense_.

 _You just need to listen_ , was Corvo’s helpful reply; his inscrutable expression was no help either.

“Where are we headed, anyway?”

Corvo gave him a disbelieving look. _Are you serious_?

Daud scowled back. “I don’t have enough time in the day to memorize your schedule, coordinate the Whalers and other agents, go over the day’s reports, summarize them to report to the Empress—”

Corvo held up a hand, unimpressed; Daud fell silent. _Home of Lord H_ , Corvo signed.

“Lord Hervey?” Daud guessed. “Oh. His daughter’s engagement party.” When Corvo nodded, Daud bit back a groan. The Herveys supported Emily’s policies, for the most part, so this was little more than a way for the Empress to show favour to the family— hardly a mission of vital importance that warranted the presence of the Royal Protector and the Spymaster.

 _You insulted H in the last parliament session_ , Corvo added, smirking.

“Fuck, I did.” Daud didn’t bother to hold his groan of despair in this time, leaning his head back against the metal wall. “This is going to be a great night.”

Corvo didn’t grace that with a reply, but his smirk was still firmly in place. Daud hated him, a little, in that moment.

* * *

Daud survived the night, though somehow his presence alongside Corvo gave rise to the rumour that _Daud_ was the mysterious lover that Emily had mentioned weeks earlier. Daud should probably have been less polite about telling the nosy nobles that asked that it was none of their business; he should’ve told them to fuck off like he’d wanted to.

The Whalers were frustratingly useless on discovering the rumour’s progenitor, or even about informing him who they had heard the ridiculous gossip from. Daud wanted _names_ so he could address the cowards face to face, or perhaps pay a visit to their home in the dead of night; he wasn’t picky. But it wasn’t meant to be.

The next couple of months did nothing to dispel the rumour, though Corvo and Daud did little beyond appear at public events together. Emily had decided that Daud was definitely the one best suited to accompany Corvo, and sent him along on nearly every little meeting. There were a few legitimate tasks mixed in, but not enough to allay Daud’s suspicions.

Corvo seemed only amused by the rumour’s persistence, stoically enduring the sidelong glances at parties or meetings and snickering about it afterward. Daud wished he could share Corvo’s carefree attitude; the unsubtle scrutiny and whispers served to set his hackles on edge each and every time. Infuriatingly enough, he never actually managed to overhear anyone gossiping about his supposed relationship with Corvo, though he did manage to uncover a few other interesting bits of intrigue in the process. So it wasn’t a complete waste.

The seeming futility of the effort didn’t stop Daud from inquiring whether any of the Whalers had found further leads on the rumour’s origin.

“—oh,” Aedan said casually, tilting his head, when Daud brought it up after his latest report. He was difficult to read, even without the mask. Daud got the impression that Aedan wasn’t his most loyal subordinate, but Dimitri was devoted enough, and Aedan to Dimitri, so Daud let it slide. So long as Aedan carried out his missions without trouble, Daud turned a blind eye; and Aedan had been more civil since the incident during Emily’s signing lesson. “I think I heard Lord Whittle talking about it.”

Daud straightened in his chair, his shorthand notes forgotten. “Whittle.” He’d heard that name recently— “He has a meeting with the Empress today.”

“Right now, in fact,” Aedan said, making a show of glancing at the clock. “I overheard him muttering to his clerk when I passed him in the hall.”

“Why didn’t you—” Daud stopped himself from demanding an explanation for the delay in sharing this crucial information, barely. “Never mind. I’ll go check on this myself.”

“Shall I inform Rinaldo’s squad that their report should be delayed?”

“Fine,” Daud said, already striding past Aedan towards the door. Of course, Rinaldo and his squad were waiting just beyond the door.

“Sir—?” Rinaldo began, obviously startled.

“Later,” Daud said shortly, not slowing as he stalked towards the meeting room.

The guard stationed at the door was one of the Whalers; a few of them had entered the ranks of the palace guard, for added security. While some of the Whalers also patrolled the rooftops and other, more secluded areas of Dunwall Tower in their trademark uniform, having some of them hidden among the regular guard could give them an edge on protecting Emily.

Jenkins nodded to Daud, restraining himself from the usual salute that the Whalers tended to greet him with. Captain Curnow, and by extension his men, were more distrustful of Daud; they greeted him with brief nods, if they acknowledged him at all.

Daud returned it, pausing before the door. Though it was closed, he could hear a man’s voice, vaguely familiar; Whittle, presumably. The wall above it had an opening whose purpose Daud had yet to divine. Something structural, perhaps, given the beam that connected the opening with its twin above the door across the hall. A security issue, but not a serious one: they could be used to eavesdrop, but with the lack of suitable foot- or handholds they were unsuitable for entry— Unless a would-be intruder had some other advantage at their disposal.

He opened the door silently despite his agitation, as was his habit. Whittle sat with his back to the door, his clerk hovering at the ready beside him; the guard stationed just inside the threshold sent Daud startled glance but didn’t otherwise react, and Emily’s eyes flicked to him only briefly before returning to Whittle. Corvo was absent, away on a surprise inspection of the Watch in the Distillery District.

“Your Majesty must know that these— _rumours_ can have a deleterious effect on one’s reputation,” Whittle was saying earnestly.

Emily cocked her head to the side, in a manner eerily reminiscent of Aedan. “How so?”

“Well,” Whittle spluttered, with the air of someone receiving resistance from a quarter they had not expected. “Rumours of the Spymaster’s unnatural abilities abound, and there was talk of Lord Corvo having the same—” His mouth shut with an audible click when Emily waved a hand dismissively.

“High Overseer Khulan has confirmed that such charges are baseless, malicious gossip.” Emily didn’t sound impressed to have to bring the matter up again; in the early days following Daud’s appointment, it had been a common topic of discussion. Daud still wasn’t certain how Corvo and Emily had wrangled Khulan into that declaration, but the Royal Protector refused to speak of it and Emily pretended not to understand his questions. “Besides, you were talking about how Corvo and the Spymaster are— involved. Not rumours of supposed heresy.”

“So they are involved?” Whittle asked, far too eagerly for Daud’s tastes. He took a silent step forward, intent upon terrifying the man with a touch to the shoulder to start—

“That’s right,” Emily said. “Definitely. So I don’t want to hear any more talk of people courting Corvo.” She glanced at Daud again, holding his gaze for several seconds. He stared back blankly, his thoughts scattered. “Or Spymaster Daud, for that matter.”

“Oh, well, who would want—” Whittle began to say, turning to follow Emily’s gaze. He flinched violently, the feet of his chair scraping loudly across the floor; were it not for his white-knuckled grip on the arms of the chair, he probably would have thrown himself to the ground. “Sp-Spymaster,” he stammered.

“Lord Whittle.” Daud bared his teeth, in no mood for pretending at pleasantry.

“I-I— how—” Whittle’s face went a sickly shade of pale as he stared up at Daud. Still, he managed to rally as the silence stretched out. “If there is some matter of importance that you must attend to with the Empress, I will, of course, take my leave—”

“There isn’t,” Daud said, partly because there wasn’t, now, but mostly because he wanted to see how Whittle reacted. Working so closely with the various nobles of Emily’s court had awakened in Daud a particularly vicious delight in testing their responses to unexpected replies.

“Are there any other matters of vital importance that you wanted to discuss, Lord Whittle?” Emily’s question seemed to remind Whittle of her existence. He turned stiffly, obviously trying to keep Daud in his sight while facing the Empress.

“No, Your Majesty. Nothing at all,” Whittle all but squeaked.

“Very well.” Emily looked back at Daud, a clear dismissal for the terrified noble, who stumbled to his feet and fled with his clerk at his heels. As soon as the door had shut behind him, Emily’s grave mask broke into a sly smile. “You shouldn’t be so mean to the nobles, Daud.” Even without the smirk, her tone of voice would have made clear the sincerity of those words, which was to say: none at all.

“I can’t help that my resting expression looks like this,” Daud deadpanned automatically, a familiar reply to Thomas or one of the other Whalers voicing a similar sentiment. The remembrance that his relationship with Emily was hardly so close - and that she had apparently been _spreading_ the damn rumour, possibly even the one to start the entire thing - came too late.

Emily laughed, a high, clear sound that rang out across the room that went a little way to soothing Daud’s annoyance with her. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she said, mock-stern. “But was there something you wanted to discuss?”

Daud narrowed his eyes at her, but Emily held his gaze evenly, the very picture of guilelessness. “No, Your Majesty,” he said at length. “I think I understand, now.” He sketched a bow and let himself out.

“About time,” he heard Emily say just before the door closed behind him.

* * *

Daud let the matter lie after that. With Emily herself endorsing Daud’s supposed relationship with Corvo, and his own lack of denial in the hope that some foolish noble would act indiscreetly before him, he couldn’t very well start to protest it now. Besides, she seemed to take a sincere enjoyment out of pushing Corvo and Daud together, and it was harmless enough. If it made her happy, the least Daud could do was endure it.

Which was how he ended up attending a party to celebrate the winter solstice with Corvo. Emily had claimed she was too busy to attend herself - technically true, though the hosts hadn’t been informed that she was too busy with preparations for the private party she was throwing for Daud and the Whalers - and sent Corvo and Daud in her stead.

“If there’s a single sprig of mistletoe, I swear by the Outsider—” Daud muttered as the railcar rattled its way towards the Estate District.

Corvo snorted. _It is out of fashion now. Has been for a few years_.

“Thank the Void,” Daud said. “So there won’t be hordes of drunk nobles laying in wait for you just inside the door.”

 _Or for you_.

It was Daud’s turn to scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Corvo’s expression made it clear that he didn’t agree, but he made no further reply, and they arrived at their destination a few minutes later.

They managed to escape a few hours later relatively unscathed - several nobles on the tipsier side had made sly comments about the two of them, but Daud’s cold glare had warded them off. It was still longer than Daud would have liked, but he could appreciate the necessity in such appearances.

While Daud had preferred to leave the Whalers to their own celebrations when they were still a gang of assassins, some part of him was actually looking forward to what Emily and a handful of the more enthusiastic Whalers had put together back at Dunwall Tower. Dimitri had requisitioned an absurd amount of coin for decorations and refused to elaborate on the nature of those decorations; Daud had only given him half of the ridiculous sum in retaliation, though he suspected Aedan had made up the difference. Somehow. So long as he wasn’t stealing from the Tower, Daud didn’t particularly care.

“Stop!” Emily shouted as Daud walked into the dining room set aside for the private celebration. He did so, shifting subtly into a combat-ready stance as he scanned the room for some kind of threat; he could sense Corvo doing the same a step behind him. All he saw, however, were the gleeful expressions of Emily and the assembled Whalers.

Corvo snorted inelegantly, tapping Daud on the shoulder. He pointed up, smiling, but there was something off about the expression. When Daud glanced up, he saw a sprig of mistletoe pinned to the door frame with a crossbow bolt.

Even if they’d used a nail or something equally mundane, and managed to pretend innocence, Daud would have known the Whalers were involved; there was no way Emily could have stuck it there by herself, without resorting to extreme measures.

“Seriously?” Daud rolled his eyes. Something in Corvo’s face closed, his smile becoming even more forced.

 _Should get it over with_ , he signed quickly.

“It’s bad luck if you don’t get a kiss, Daud!” one of the Whalers called from within the room; their exact identity was unimportant at that moment.

“It’s a Gristolian tradition, it doesn’t apply to us,” Daud retorted absently. The fixed expression on Corvo’s face was more pressing, because Daud had thought that Emily’s attempts to push the two of them together had been well-meaning but ultimately baseless; that Corvo was only indulging her—

Before he had time to do anything about it, however, Corvo leaned in. His lips pressed briefly against Daud’s, little more than a light brush; it was gone so swiftly that Daud could hardly register shock that it was happening at all, much less the barely-there pressure of the kiss. If it had lasted even a second, Daud would have been surprised.

Emily made a soft sound of disappointment which was quickly drowned out by a chorus of “aww’s” from the Whalers, but Daud paid them little mind. He could only focus on the stoic mask Corvo had put on. He caught Corvo as the man made to enter the room, using a fistful of his ridiculous coat to pull him back where Daud wanted him.

Corvo had time to shoot Daud a startled, _hopeful_ look before Daud kissed him. His eyelids slipped closed after a moment, his hands rising to clasp at Daud, to pull them even closer. Daud nipped at his lower lip, forgetting, for a moment— but he drew back when Corvo stiffened. Right. His tongue.

“Sorry,” he muttered, hoarse; he could scarcely hear himself over the cheering and whistling from inside the room.

The look Corvo gave him then was pure exasperation, though it lost some its edge when Daud licked his lips, Corvo’s eyes dropping to follow the motion.

“Yeah, Daud, get some,” someone called.

Corvo snorted again, leaning around Daud to grab the handle and pull the door shut; it did little to muffle the enthusiastic responses of Emily and the Whalers, but Daud forgot all about them as Corvo pulled him in again.


End file.
